


in the back of the flesh curtains van

by orphan_account



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: F/M, The Flesh Curtains, Young Rick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-30 00:17:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11452053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: rick kind of doesnt give a fuck about going at it in a vehicle while there are other people present. (a work in progress)





	in the back of the flesh curtains van

The evening had passed like a fragmented series of blurry snapshots. Through the fog of many drinks, you can remember arriving at the shady bar, shouting to your friends to be heard over the background noise of the packed out room, thrashing about wildly to the deafening music of an inter-species band, and now, being led into the back of the beaten-up van of said band, by the handsome bassist who smells of sweat and smoke.   
The feline drummer, and the singer (whose wings you initially thought were fake, but were rapidly realising otherwise) clambered into the front seats, the bird-man taking the wheel and being the only of the 3 to acknowledge the presence of his seatbelt. The bassist, meanwhile, was acknowledging only your presence, as he pulled you onto his lap and ran his rough hands idly down your legs.  
“W-what’d you say your name was, sweetie?” he cooed. He was wearing tight jeans with a vest that showed his long, leanly muscular arms as well as his prominent collarbones and several inches of chest. His strong jawline and thick, black hair were undeniably attractive, and you found yourself drawn to his swaggering confidence and lascivious flirting.   
You told him your name, and he chuckled; “(y/n)… very nice, I like that”. His dark eyes turned to your hair, taking a strand between two fingers and twirling it around, so you were pulled in closer, close enough to make out his inky black lashes and a shadow of stubble. “And I’m Rick, but you already knew that, didn’t you, babe?” There’s a touch of arrogance in his tone, and you recall him introducing his band’s set earlier as “RICK MOTHERFUCKIN’ SANCHEZ, YOU FILTHY GLIP-GLOPS!”. He continues running his hand through your hair, making your pulse rise a little when he tugs it playfully, smirking at you in the half-light. For a moment, you wander exactly what it is you’re doing here, in this questionable man’s lap, but then the van jolts to life, juddering and swinging out onto the road, and you have no time to reconsider your choice (or if the bird-person is familiar at all with a steering wheel.). The vehicle’s sudden movement jolts you both to one side, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself.   
Before you can attempt a meagre apology, he raises his thick eyebrows at you mischeviously- “Well, someone’s a little forward tonight, huh?” - and responds in kind, resting his hands on your waist. He runs a fingertip under your waistband in a circular motion, and the sudden pressure on your bare skin makes you gasp and become aware of the wetness beginning to seep between your thighs. “Hey, shh (y/n)” he whispers into your ear, his smoky breath tickling your neck and standing your hairs on end. “We’re in public”. He glances towards the two in the front seats, the cat now extracting an elaborately twisted glass bong from the glove compartment. “You wouldn’t want them to hear, would you?” His pushes another finger into your trousers, dipping lower to pull on your underwear, and you realise that his question is not a request, but a challenge. You have a sudden urge to shut him up, and close the little remaining space between your faces by leaning in to kiss him, He lets out a low, appreciative hum, beginning to grind his hips slightly into you, and thrusts his hand lower still, to circle your throbbing clit with his fingertip. His other hand moves your thigh to the side, so you’re straddling him in the cramped space. The feel of him grazing past your entrance again and again without ever entering has you soaked through your panties, and you’re aware that the bystanders are probably able to hear your breathy moans. “Shh”, he growls, pushing your head into the tan skin just above his shoulder. You stifle your moans into his neck, sucking his skin so he shudders and tosses his head back, and you can feel him getting hard beneath you as the vehicle’s vibrations move your body unpredictably on his.   
Your heart stops for a second as you glance into the rear-view mirror and lock eyes with the driver, and it’s as if Rick can tell, because he chooses this moment to finally stop teasing and pushes one long finger deep into you.


End file.
